The Necrocite Plan
by GhostScribe
Summary: This story features the tenth Doctor and Donna, and is set between the episodes "Forest of the Dead" and "Midnight". The Tardis arrives in a disused underground station during the height of the Blitz in 1941. But there is more to worry about down there than Hitler's bombs. Something else has been at work in the tunnels beneath London's streets...
1. Chapter 1

**Doctor Who**

**~ The Necrocite Plan ~**

**by Ghost Scribe**

**~ Chapter One ~**

**Light in Darkness**

The Tardis hit the ground with all the grace of a grand piano pushed out of a second storey window. The Doctor was ready for this. After all, he'd spent most of the past nine hundred years becoming accustomed to her little foibles. Unfortunately, Donna hadn't quite mastered the art of surviving landings unscathed.

'There,' the Doctor said, grinning from ear to ear in that slightly maniacal way, 'that wasn't so bad, was it?'

Donna scowled up at him as she sat in a heap on the floor, massaging a fresh bruise on her right buttock that, within hours, would neatly match the one on the left cheek.

'Could you not fit this thing with suspension?' She spat each word out as she checked to ensure there were no serious injuries.

'Oh, where's the fun in that?' He reached out a hand and dragged her to her feet. The Doctor was surprisingly strong considering he made the average rake look in need of liposuction.

'Where are we?' she asked.

'You want to see a dragon?'

'A dragon?' she said, suddenly forgetting how tender her backside felt. 'No. You're kidding me! Where are we?'

'Your mum's house,' he replied, turning back to the console.

Donna should have expected something like this. The Doctor's relationship with her mother was ... fractious. At best. She didn't realise it, but she wasn't the first of his companions to have a mother who held him in pretty low regard.

'How long have we been gone?' she asked.

'About a week. Go on, I'll catch up with you later. I need to recalibrate the image targeting resolution scanner.'

'And what does that mean for those of us who don't speak Martian?'

'I... I don't speak Martian. Never got the hang of all those vowels.' The Doctor, last of the Time Lords, slayer of the Daleks, who had witnessed civilisations rise and fall, suddenly looked sheepish. 'I press this button.'

Donna shook her head, feeling this was one of those little victories that she occasionally won with him. 'Come on, spaceman. Time to face that dragon.'

She walked to the door, with the Doctor reluctantly following in her wake, dragging his feet like a child on the way to a maths test. But when she opened the door she stopped.

'It's a bit dark. Are you sure this is my mum's house?'

He brushed past her, walking out into the gloom. She hesitated a moment before following. Anything could be out there. Literally anything, but she followed anyway. She always did. The Doctor had that effect on people. They trusted him. And most lived not to regret it. Most.

'Ah,' he said at length. 'I knew that image targeting resolution scanner needed recalibrating. We might not quite be at your mum's house.'

As her eyes adjusted to the darkness, Donna became aware of shapes around her. They were in a tunnel, a long curving cylinder, cream coloured tiles lining the walls, and each end swathed in darkness. To her side, the floor disappeared, but she could just about make out the iron girder of a railway line.

'This is an underground station,' she said quietly. 'But which one?' She felt a rising trepidation, as if some awful truth were about to be revealed. What if this was the near future and London was a dead city. What if all the people she knew and loved were dead?

Figures were moving in the shadows, their faces hidden in the near darkness giving them a sinister appearance.

The Doctor reached into his jacket pocket and retrieved his sonic screwdriver, flicking it swiftly through a hundred and eighty degrees. The accompanying clickety-click noise it emitted as he reset the device was comforting to her, a sound of familiarity in this strange and unnerving place. It began to emit that oscillating buzz, and the area was immediately bathed in a soft blue glow.

Suddenly, the railway platform looked less threatening. The people were just people, not looking in any way out of the ordinary. Except in the way they were dressed. Closest to them was a girl, possibly in her late teens, her hair pulled tightly back to form a neatly plaited braid. She wore a cream patterned dress and black, stub-nosed shoes with white socks. To Donna, she looked for all the world like Dorothy from the Wizard of Oz.

A little further down the platform were three soldiers, their berets tucked neatly into their epaulets and kit bags slung casually over their shoulders.

There were what looked like businessmen on the platform, wearing heavy-looking suits and trilby hats. She saw a mother shepherding two unruly children away from the platform's edge.

'Okay,' Donna said, 'forget about where are we. When are we?'

The Doctor ignored her question, and walked over to the curved wall of the tunnel, to a metal box mounted on its side. A quick sonic buzz had it open, and an instant later the lights in the tunnel began to glow into life.

'There we are,' he said happily. He looked around, taking in their surroundings as anybody would. But most people wouldn't make a show of sniffing the air, or licking it to see how it tasted. He smacked his lips, presumably finding the taste unpleasant. 'Carbon monoxide, sulphur and ... just a dash of cordite. I'd say it's-'

'9th May 1941,' Donna added for him, scanning the front page of the newspaper she'd just retrieved from the floor. '"TERROR RAINS FROM THE SKY". You've brought me to the bloody Blitz!'

'Oh, the Blitz. Not your mum's house then.' But his face suddenly changed, eyes shifting from left to right. 'May 9th you say?'

'That's what it says here. Why, is that important?'

'Nah, probably not. Although...' He stared at the sign on the opposite wall, written in ornate lettering: York Road.

Donna followed his gaze. 'York Road? There isn't a York Road.'

'Not in your time there wasn't. Not in this time, either. This station was closed in 1932.'

It was easy to believe that it had been disused for close to a decade. The scent of decay filled the stagnant air, dust clinging precariously to the walls. But there were some obvious new additions: posters reflecting the paranoid fears of the age with headlines like "Loose Lips Might Sink Ships!" and "Tittle Tattle Lost the Battle!" with pictures of sinister looking characters concealing swastikas and housewives gossiping over garden fences.

From above came the dull rumble of a distant explosion, followed by a string of further impacts, each louder than the first. Dust was dislodged from the walls, swirling in small eddies as flakes of plaster fell from the ceiling.

The Doctor looked slowly upwards toward the sound, blinking away the dust. 'We shouldn't be here,' he said, his demeanour suddenly deadly serious. 'We have to go.' He turned on his heel, heading back to the Tardis.

'Why?' she called after him. 'We're safe down here aren't we. People used to shelter from the bombs in underground stations.'

He stopped and turned abruptly, his hands closing around her shoulders, eyes burning with intensity. 'No, no one's safe as long as I'm here. The whole world is in danger the longer I stay. We need to leave now.'

The Doctor glanced around, as if he was expecting something to appear at any moment before fumbling in his pocket for the Tardis key, juggling it until it landed in his hand the right way up and slid it into the lock, pushing the door open...

Donna stared into the empty blue wooden box.


	2. Chapter 2

**Doctor Who**

**~ The Necrocite Plan ~**

**by Ghost Scribe**

**~ Chapter Two ~**

**The Late Train**

Donna stared blankly at the old wooden interior of the box, blue painted panels faded with age. 'Where's the inside?' she asked, stunned at what she was seeing.

'She's gone,' the Doctor replied, running his hand through his hair that stuck up even more wildly than usual. 'There's nothing left. This is just a shell.'

'Then... Then how do we get home?'

'We don't. At least for now.'

'I don't even have a change of clothes. Or my toothbrush. It took all my stuff as well?'

'You look all right,' he said, giving his companion a quick look up and down.

I look "all right"? I just look "all right"?'

'Donna, not now,' he said, and she knew at once this wasn't the time for an outburst.

He touched a hand to her arm and smiled reassuringly, before strolling over to the young woman who was the closest person on the platform.

'Evening,' he said brightly. 'Sheltering from the bombs or waiting for a train? Not many people here. I'd have thought there'd be more in a shelter during an air raid. Wouldn't you think that, Donna? This is Donna by the why, and I'm the Doctor-'

'Doctor,' Donna hissed. 'Shut up for five seconds so she can speak.'

He looked round, momentarily baffled by the interruption. 'Yes! Sorry! My gob never knows when to stop sometimes.'

The girl looked at him, her gaze languidly drifting over to look at Donna, before turning back to the Doctor. 'It's morning now ain't it?'

He glanced at his watch. 'Is it? Wasn't sure, got this thing set to aeons. I ought to change it before going out into the big wide world really. So, what are you doing here?'

The girl looked confused.

'I think she's a bit dim,' Donna whispered in his ear.

'I'm waiting,' the girl said at last.

'Waiting for what?'

'I don't know. I was told to wait. Told it wouldn't be long.'

'Who told you to wait?'

'I don't know.'

'Oh well,' he continued brightly. 'Thanks for that. We should have these chats more often.' He pulled the sonic screwdriver from his pocket and held it in front of the girl's eyes. 'Do you mind if I give you a quick scan, just to check for … bomb damage.'

Before she could reply the screwdriver buzzed into life and he spent several seconds running it around her head, before slowly withdrawing it.

'I'm sorry,' he said solemnly. 'I'm so very, very sorry.'

'It's all right, me mam says we'll be fine. Ain't nuffink Hitler can throw at us that we can't handle.'

'Good for you,' he smiled. 'Come on, Donna, he said, turning away from the girl.

'Is you and your missus all right, Sir?'

'Oh no,' the Doctor replied quickly, ' we're not married.'

'No we most certainly ain't,' Donna chimed in quickly. 'Aren't. No we aren't. It must be catching.'

'It could be,' the Doctor said absently, walking away and leaving Donna to catch up with him.

'Doctor,' she said, 'why were you sorry. What's wrong with her?'

He strolled over to a businessman, wearing an immaculate pinstriped suit, polished shoes and bowler hat. To Donna he looked the epitome of an old-fashioned bank manager, from the days before credit crunches and credit ratings.

'Morning,' the Doctor said, holding up a blank piece of paper enclosed in a small wallet. 'Ministry of Bomb Damage. Just like to conduct a little bomb damage test.'

'Well I trust this will not take long,' the man said gruffly. 'I am late for a very important meeting.'

'Ah. Well... It's Hitler, you see. That man has no respect for meetings. Look at Munich in '39. I really wish now I hadn't told him to duck. Won't be doing that again.'

Before the man could respond the Doctor scanned him in the same way he had the girl. 'Good, no bomb damage. Keep calm and carry on.'

'Doctor!' Donna said, yanking his arm and dragging him away. 'Are you going to tell me what's going on? What's wrong with the Tardis? And what's wrong with all these people?'

He looked into her eyes, and it felt like all the weariness of a nine hundred year journey was channelled into that gaze.

'They're all dead, Donna,' he said simply. 'They just don't realise it yet.'

'What, you mean they're all about to die? Here? Well can't we get them-'

'No. I mean they're all dead. Literally, dead. Their bodies have been regenerated, and they still hold residual memories, but they are completely dead.'

'But... That girl. She looked at me. She spoke to us. She remembered her mother.'

'Those are like echoes of her life. And as for the Tardis...'

He didn't finish the sentence, but turned to listen. From the impenetrable blackness of the tunnel at the end of the platform came a distant rumble. It grew louder until it was a roar, amplified by the confines of the space. There was the screech of metal against metal and a moment later, a train appeared.

'I thought you said this station was disused?' Donna yelled over the sound of the train.

'It is. It was.' The Doctor scratched the back of his neck. She'd seen him do this many times before, always when he was trying to fathom an intriguing problem.

The train came to a juddering halt next to them. She was accustomed to using the tube. The arrival of a train at a station was always accompanied by the bustle of people hurrying for exits, jostling each other to squeeze through inadequate openings. But not today. There were plenty of people on the train, but none of them moved. All remained steadfastly in their seats. No, she thought, they were all slumped in their seats.

'Are they all dead as well?' she asked, quietly now in the silence that followed the noise.

'Dunno. They might be. Probably are. Yeah, I'd say they're dead. You okay with that?'

'Yeah, I've seen dead people before. Chiswick's full of them. Hard to tell the live ones from the dead sometimes.'

The train was quite full, every seat taken by an unmoving person. They all looked perfectly normal, dressed as you would expect of someone from this era. But it was eerie, watching these people who could merely be sleeping. But there was no sound. In a large group of sleeping people, there were always a few who would be snoring loudly. But there was nothing. Just silence. An unnatural, spooky silence. The Doctor scanned the first one he came to: a soldier, his head lolling to one side.

'He's dead,' the Doctor said quietly.

'What killed them? Are they bomb victims?'

'I don't think so. No sign of any injuries at all. It's almost like...' He suddenly froze, as if he'd had a sudden realisation. 'No. No, it can't be...'

'What? Doctor, what is it?'

'They're Necrocites. All of these people are Necrocites.'

'They're what?'

Before he could answer, something seemed to enter the carriage. Something alive, yet not alive. And the compartment began to glow with a golden aura of pure, naked energy, unlike anything Donna had ever seen before - unlike anything she had ever felt before. It seemed to envelop her in a cocoon of power, entering her body and invigorating her. For a few moments she felt wonderful, as if everything that had ever troubled her had simply been washed away.

As soon as that luminous light had come, it disappeared. But something had changed within the confined space of the train. She couldn't put her finger on it, but the carriage suddenly felt alive, as if some unseen force had breathed life into this barge of the dead.

People began to stir.

'Uh-oh,' the Doctor said, looking around as bodies all around were moving. 'This isn't good.'

'How not good?'

'Very not good.' He scanned the nearest figure again. 'No. But that's impossible. Not to mention very, very bad.'

'But how are they moving? I thought they were dead.'

'They are. Something else is controlling them.'

Some of the figures began to stand, turning toward the only two living things in the carriage. Donna realised – finally – what the Doctor truly meant. She looked into their eyes, but saw no life in those blank stares.

'Doctor...'

'Donna... RUN!'

The Doctor tore from the train, with Donna trailing in his wake. She glanced behind her and almost screamed as she saw people – dead people - leaping through the door, scrambling to pursue them. They moved abnormally quickly, as if invigorated with inhuman agility. But the most alarming thing of all was the silence. Crowds of people make noise, shout, scream, cough, bellow. But these people moved with a quiet determination, hitting the platform and instantly breaking into a sprint.

She was sure she could never outrun them.

The Doctor flew up the nearest flight of stairs and Donna struggled to keep up. She was already breathless, partly from the sudden exertion, and partly from the terror that threatened to overwhelm her.

She emerged at the top of the stairs into a long, narrow tunnel, her footfalls echoing in the confined space.

'Keep up, Donna!' the Doctor shouted as he spun through three hundred and sixty degrees to check she was still behind, his long coat billowing around him. She started down the passage after him, running for her life, running as she'd never run before. Why did travelling with the Doctor involve so much running? She wasn't built for this.

The sound of feet hitting the ground behind her – many pairs of feet – spurred her on. Her mind was a whirl of fear and confusion. They charged along corridor after corridor, up a flight of stairs, down a flight of stairs. Their pursuers never slowed, never tired, never relented. It was only a matter of time.

At the end of the corridor the Doctor stopped and shouted: 'HURRY UP! MOVE, DONNA, MOVE!' He looked desperate, his eyes flashing wildly.

And then he disappeared, setting off down yet another passage. But this time he was replaced by a crowd of people. Dead people. She slid to a halt, staring with horror at the crowd running toward her. She looked behind. Not thirty feet away – and drawing closer with alarming swiftness – was the group she had been running from.

She was trapped, Necrocites ahead and behind.

There were just seconds left. This was it. She had no escape. It was her time.

Fifteen feet.

It had been fun, Donna thought. She just hoped the end would come swiftly.

An air of calm descended over her as she felt the first hands grab at her unprotected body.

'Please let it be quick...'


	3. Chapter 3

**Doctor Who**

**~ The Necrocite Plan ~**

**by Ghost Scribe**

**~ Chapter Three ~**

**The Nightmare Cavern**

The Doctor stared in horror as the mass of bodies descended upon Donna like lions onto a gazelle. Her screams cut through him like a knife as his teeth ground together in anguish. Two dozen more Necrocites arrived to join the rest, descending onto the mass of bodies like locusts.

Mercifully, her screams ended quickly. The last thing he heard was a single, desperate cry. It was just one word - one terrible, gargled shriek: 'Doctor.'

And then there was silence.

He had lost her. He'd promised to show her the universe, to explore all of time with him. And now it was too late. Some betrayals could never be forgiven, and he would blame himself for this for the rest of his lives.

Some of the Necrocites turned their attention to him, their dead eyes spying more prey. He would have waited there. He would have let them take him, tear his body to shreds beyond any hope of regeneration. But he had a higher duty. Donna was but one woman – an amazing, wonderful, strong, resourceful, compassionate, caring, extraordinary woman - but just one woman nonetheless.

An entire planet was at stake, and he knew he needed to survive long enough to save it.

He ran, ran as fast as he could, and heard the footfalls of his pursuers behind him. He started down a fresh corridor, but there would be no escape from this passage. At the far end was a single iron door, with nowhere else to go.

He could run quickly – after all, he'd had plenty of practice – but the inhuman speed of the Necrocites was too great. They were closing on him.

Twenty feet from the door he scrabbled in his pocket for his only possible salvation: his trusty sonic screwdriver. It took precious seconds to retrieve it. The Doctor had exceptionally deep pockets and he tossed aside all manner of other items: a cordless drill, two hairdryers, a carriage clock and a dozen other things that were of little use to him right now. Naturally, a Time Lord's pockets are bigger in the inside.

As his body slammed into the unyielding door, his fingers wrapped around the small, cylindrical device. A second later he aimed it at the rusted lock. He glanced behind. The mob was thirty feet away, the individuals at the front running with arms outstretched to grab him.

He activated the screwdriver, hearing that blessed, oh so familiar buzz.

Nothing happened.

He tried again, and this time heard the whine of metal straining against metal, but still the door remained obstinately secure. He glanced back again.

Twenty feet.

Another buzz. Still nothing. They would be on him in seconds.

A last, desperate attempt. Finally, he heard the rusted mechanism reluctantly slide back.

Ten feet.

The Doctor slammed his shoulder against the door and it eventually opened, screeching in protest. He slipped inside, pushing it closed and shoving his full weight against it as the mob arrived, piling against it and knocking him backwards. He fought to keep it closed, using all his weight and strength against the mass of bodies on the other side. The pressure eased momentarily and he gave the door one last push and it closed, sealing with a blast of energy from the screwdriver.

Finally he was safe, though "safe" was a relative term. He looked around in the glow of his sonic screwdriver. The room appeared to be little more than a store cupboard with a bucket and dried up mop the only objects to keep him company. The walls were grey and smeared with dirt, cobwebs hanging from the ceiling in gossamer curtains. Everything looked old and worn, suffering the decay of decades of neglect.

Except for the door at the end. That looked new. In fact it looked more than new. It gleamed, almost as if it radiated its own light from within. He touched it with the palm of his hand. It was warm and soft, the surface holding the pattern of his hand for a few seconds before remoulding itself back into place.

'Access approved,' a voice said, and the door melted away. It did not just open; it literally melted.

'Organic metal,' the Doctor muttered to himself. 'Now there's posh.'

He thought of Donna for a moment, but this was not the time to mourn her. He would be able to do that later. He would grieve for his friend at the monastery in 1207 AD. The monks there would leave him to his contemplations.

Beyond the aperture that had just appeared was complete blackness, so impenetrable that he had to fight the vertigo that suddenly consumed him. He stepped through the doorway, his foot coming to rest on … metal. Organic metal. And the instant his sole made contact, he found himself bathed in a warm, amber light. If he had felt a sense of vertigo before, it was nothing compared to what he felt now.

The Doctor stared in stunned wonder at a vast cavern, over a mile wide and at least as much deep. All around, the naked bedrock was smooth, as if this entire space had been vaporised and the walls polished. Far below, the rock looked rougher, with jagged outcrops of granite that would skewer any unfortunate soul who might fall.

But as impressive as the cavern was, it paled in comparison to its contents. He found himself staring at a giant starship, as magnificent in its beauty as it was in its size. Its lines were graceful, moving in elegant arcs from a bulbous main body to short, stubby wings. These should have looked ugly and disproportionately small compared to the bulk of the rest of the ship, but they looked an exquisite piece of design. The entire ship seemed to ripple, swirling patterns moving over its surface.

And he was fairly sure that the ship was alive.

He stood on a walkway, a strip of metal barely two feet wide, stretching from the door he had just passed through, to the nose of the giant craft.

He started along the bridge; slowly; cautiously. There was no handrail, in fact nothing at all between him and a mile-long drop onto jagged rock.

There was a sound from behind him; a slurping, gurgling sound. His eyes went wide as he saw the narrow strip of metal that supported him melting before his eyes.

'This can't be good,' he muttered, and returned his attention to the giant ship ahead of him. The doorway into the vessel was closing.

The Doctor ran. He ran toward the door. He ran for his life.


	4. Chapter 4

**Doctor Who**

**~ The Necrocite Plan ~**

**by Ghost Scribe**

**~ Chapter Four ~**

**The Trinity of Tula**

The Doctor hurtled along the narrow gangway. Right now, toppling over the edge and into the precipice below was not his primary concern. He glanced behind at the seething, bubbling metal walkway that melted like molten wax just behind him. The bridge would be gone in seconds – as would the aperture in the giant spacecraft ahead of him. That opening was his only chance of survival, and with liquid metal falling away beneath his feet, he dived for the hole.

He landed heavily, sliding several feet along a polished floor before coming to a stop, just as the iris hatch sealed itself behind him. He dragged himself to his feet, hearts racing but apparently undamaged.

Ahead was a narrow ramp, made from the same living metal as the bridge that had just melted beneath him. On either side was a high wall. There was little doubt that he was expected to ascend this walkway. At the far end he spied a tantalising amber glow. Even if he had no other way out, he could never resist something as enticing that.

The Doctor, after a minute of climbing, emerged into what appeared to be the ship's bridge. It was a large triangular space, around fifty feet across at its widest point with banks of elegantly designed control panels lining the three walls. The interior of the ship, like its exterior, looked like it had been grown, as if these controls were a living part of the vessel. And he knew now that this was precisely how they had been created.

The source of the light he had seen from the bottom of the ramp was instantly apparent: there were three figures in the control room. They appeared to be identical. All were female, unutterably beautiful and completely hairless. Their golden skin glowed with a rich incandescence. And all were completely naked. Except for the tone of their skin, they looked almost human. Except for the third eye positioned in the centre of the forehead, and the third breast.

'Oh hello!' he said brightly.

'Greetings,' said the central figure. 'Welcome to the Skitarius.'

'Well,' the Doctor said, looking around with wide-eyed appreciation, 'this is quite some ship you have here.' He walked over to one of the wall panels and held his palm to it. The panel glowed with a soft, radiant amber. 'Tactile interface. And I'm guessing it has a psychotronic interface as well. Am I right?'

'That is correct,' the figure said.

'Black hole converter warp space drive system, standard pyramidal configuration of a Tula heavy cruiser, which must make you,' he extended a finger and swung it round to point at each woman in turn, 'the Trinity of Tula.'

'We are pleased that you know so much of our people.'

'Oh yes, always heard stories of the Trinities of Tula. Never met any before though. Identical triplets, highly respected on your world. Almost the stuff of legend. Still, a lot of us can say that. Anyway... This does leave us with a big, stinking question: what are you planning on doing with a great big, heavily armed Tula battle cruiser?'

'We harvest the expired humans,' another of the women said, her sultry voice as smooth and rich as liquid chocolate.

'Ah, I'd noticed that. Now you know I can't let you continue to do that. You can't just come to a pre-contact planet and steal their dead.'

'It is necessary,' the third woman said in the same, velvety tone.

'But it has to stop. I hate to sound like an aging celebrity trying to get a table in a busy restaurant but do you know who I am?'

The woman in the centre stepped forward, her skin shimmering as she moved with the elegant grace of a puma. She gestured to her two companions. 'Leave us, sisters.'

Without a word, the two other women disappeared in a golden glow of energy.

'That's a neat trick. Personal teleports as well.'

'You are the Doctor; last of the Time Lords and slayer of the Daleks in the last great Time War.'

'Then if you know who I am, you also know I can't let you continue with this. These people deserve more respect than to be harvested in this way.'

'It is necessary. You fought your war, Doctor. For you it is over, but for those of us for whom time is linear it continues.' She walked slowly around him as she spoke. 'Do you know how many worlds fell during your war, Doctor?'

'Too many,' he admitted.

'Ours is one such world. Tula has been ravaged by the Skaro Degradations. We need fresh warriors to fight, and these humans have proven quite resilient and adaptable. You are the cause of this, Doctor. We never sought this war.'

The Doctor felt the anguish and torment of the Time War. It had been the greatest conflict in history: the final battle between the Time Lords and the Daleks. Toward the end, both races had descended into madness, with the very fabric of the universe threatened by larger and more terrible weapons. It had been he who had ended it. With one final act, he had wiped two great races from the cosmos. And he hoped no one would ever have to make such an awful choice again.

But a war of that magnitude would never merely be between the two antagonists. Other worlds and races were drawn into the conflict. Innocent species like the Tula had fought, and fought well. He felt for these people, empathised with them, but he had a duty to the people of the Earth. They were ill-equipped to face another enemy. In the Earth year 1941, they had enough problems of their own.

'I am sorry,' he said at last. 'I am truly sorry for what has happened to Tula, but that does not give you that right to plunder this planet's dead.'

'You Time Lords walked this galaxy like gods, Doctor,' she said, a golden finger tracing an invisible line around him as she continued to circle. 'Yours was a magnificent and noble race. But the Time Lords are gone. You represent the last of their breed. And now the younger races must assume their mantle.'

'Then fight this war yourselves!' the Doctor said with a hint of exasperation. 'Stop this harvest. War is a bloody and ugly business. You need to do this for yourselves, not plunder the human dead.'

'Doctor, I don't think you appreciate the grandeur of this mission,' the woman said, waving one arm lazily toward the rear wall. A single pin prick of light appeared in its centre, rapidly growing to form a large, elliptical window.

The Doctor's jaw, quite literally, dropped. The main body of the ship – over ninety per cent of its total volume – was hollow. It was filled with chambers, each large enough to hold a single human being. They stretched off into the distance, the furthest too small to make out clearly. Thousands upon thousands of these caskets filled the giant space, aligned in neat rows and columns.

He stepped closer to the window, surveying the magnificent scene. 'There are thousands of them. Hundreds of thousands.'

'Over one million units,' she corrected him. This is the first such ship.'

'The first? You need more than a million? How many ships in total?'

'Two thousand,' she replied evenly.

'Two thousand? But that's enough to...' Finally, he realised what this meant – and what the Tula plan was. 'Two thousand ships. Each carrying a million Necrocites. That's two billion people. The entire population of the planet!'

'Correct.'

'You're not just harvesting their dead; you're commiting genocide.'

'Correct.'

The doctor tore his eyes from the awesome view and strode up to the woman. 'You have already killed a friend of mine, someone I liked very much. This ends here; do you understand?'

'The Necrocite plan will proceed.'

He fixed her with a cold, penetrating stare. 'I will give you just one warning. End this now, or I will stop you.'

She laughed. 'How do you propose to do that? You are but one man. A quite extraordinary man, I concede, but one man nonetheless. We have hundreds of Necrocites active, and thousands more who can be activated by the merest thought.'

'This is your last chance,' he said, his gaze unwavering.

There was the sound of footsteps and he finally allowed his eyes to move from those of the Tula. Necrocites were entering the control room, spreading out from the top of the ramp and depriving him of his only exit.

'As you see, Doctor, I think it is you who should be concerned about your current situation. I suggest you make your peace with whatever gods the great Time Lords revered.'

He glanced around the bridge, just to ensure there were indeed no more exits. He was completely trapped and as soon as she gave the word, her Necrocites would descend upon him.

'This is your absolute last chance,' he said. 'Whatever happens from now on, remember that I gave you this opportunity to pull back.'

She smiled, the satisfied smile of a victor about to vanquish its prey. 'Goodbye Doctor. I cannot help but feel a little disappointed. I confess I had expected more from a man with your reputation. Alas, your life will end here, in this great starship on its noble quest.'

'Well,' he said, 'it was worth a shot. But I suppose you're right. And since you're using human bodies to kill me, perhaps its fitting that I use a human gesture to say goodbye.'

He proffered his hand, wiggling his fingers to urge her to reciprocate. She did, and he shook her hand enthusiastically.

'Necrocites,' she began, but the Doctor held up his hand.

'Oh, just before you do that,' he said, walking over to one of the consoles. 'Would I be right in thinking that this is a site-to-site teleport?'

'You would,' she said, that smile tugging at her lips again.

'And that it's genetically coded to only accept Tula commands?'

She nodded, but the smile dissolved from her lips.

'Now you're getting it,' he grinned. 'You really shouldn't have let me do that genetic transfer just then. And now I only have one more thing to say to you.'

He slammed the palm of his hand down on the console.

'Allons-y Alonso!'

In a flash of electric plasma, he disappeared into thin air.


	5. Chapter 5

**Doctor Who**

**~ The Necrocite Plan ~**

**by Ghost Scribe**

**~ Chapter Five ~**

**Calling in the Cavalry**

'You can bloody well let me go!' Donna yelled in fury, yanking at the bonds that bound her wrists and ankles. She hung spread-eagled against the wall, surrounded by Necrocites.

They stood dumbly, ignoring her furious demands to be set free. There were only three beings on board the Skitarius whom they would obey.

'I'm warning you, if you don't let me go...' Her voice trailed off as the darkness was washed away by a glorious golden luminescence that slowly resolved itself into a humanoid shape. But when the shape solidified, she could see it was a long way from being human.

'Bloody hell,' she said as she stared at the triple-breasted, triple-eyed woman with the glowing golden skin.

The figure walked toward her to stand a few scant inches away. They stared at each other for long moments, the alien viewing Donna with curiosity, like a scientist dispassionately examining an unusual new specimen.

'Don't go poking those things at me.' Donna glanced furtively down at the woman's chest for a moment. 'Is it cold in here or are they always like that?'

Donna was angry. And scared. And frustrated. She was angry and frustrated a lot of the time, but being in this position, immobilised and helpless, fear was thrown into the volatile mix. She only had one way to respond to any of the three emotions: she shouted. And when she was experiencing all three, she shouted a lot.

'You are a curious human,' the woman said. 'There is so much anger within you.'

'Well I've got a lot to be angry about, Goldilocks. You better hope you're nowhere near when I get out of here.'

'So much anger. You would have made a fine Necrocite warrior.'

'What, you not going to make me into one of your zombies? Not good enough for you then?'

'You are not suitable.'

'Why?'

'There is something on your back.'

Donna froze. She had heard those words before. Several times. 'What do you mean?'

'You will have to be silenced, and will not be permitted to fight in the great war against the Skaro Degradations.'

'Oh, I'd like to see you try that.'

Every eye in the room - be it human, Tula or Necrocite - turned to stare at the source of the male voice. A man stood leaning casually against the far wall, repeatedly tossing up his sonic screwdriver, watching it twirl in the air for a moment, before falling back into the palm of his hand.

Predictably, Donna was the one to break the sudden silence that had fallen. 'Where the bloody hell have you been?'

'Busy,' he replied, that maddening smile draping itself over his face.

'Doctor,' the golden woman said, 'my sister warned me that you may appear here. This time there is no teleport to save you from our warriors. Necroci-'

Before she could finish the word, the Doctor had pointed the screwdriver at her and fired, bathing her in a cloak of purest cobalt.

Nothing happened.

'Kill the Doctor,' she continued.

Three dozen humans stood there, staring at her blankly.

'Necrocites: kill the Doctor,' she repeated, but still they remained immobile. She slowly turned to face her adversary again. 'What have you done?'

'Oh, just set up a low-level dampening field. Not enough to hurt anyone. Not enough to cause any permanent damage. Just enough to blanket your psychotronic control.' He sauntered over to Donna. 'You okay?'

'Oh, so-so.' Four zaps of sonic energy later and she was free and rubbing her sore wrists. 'Doctor... All these people. Dead.' She looked around at the Necrocites. There were so many. Too many.

'I know,' he said solemnly, 'there's nothing we can do for them now. But we can stop them taking any more.'

'How? Have you got some plan to switch them off by flicking a switch in a big control room?'

'No.' His face suddenly brightened. 'But that's good, I like that.'

'What then?'

From somewhere outside, there suddenly came the sound of gunfire. A lot of guns and a lot of firing.

'This,' he said. 'I've called in the cavalry.

The sound of gunfire drew closer, clattering loudly.

'Necrocites,' the golden woman said once more, 'kill the Doctor.'

Something in the room changed. The Necrocites seemed to come alive, their faces eager and hungry, and they began to move.

'Stop this!' the Doctor commanded, firing another blast at the woman. The Necrocites halted their approach, but even Donna could see that this time the dampening field wasn't quite as effective. 'I'm warning you, stop it now! You can't win this battle.'

'And how do you propose to stop us, Doctor?'

He increased the intensity of the beam and the army of the dead halted their approach once more. He sighed, as if his next action would be final - a last, decisive throw of the dice.

'By doing this.'

The Doctor adjusted the setting on his screwdriver and raised it above his head, firing a beam of radiant blue energy into the ceiling. A few moments later the device fell silent, and he slowly lowered his arms.

'I'm sorry,' he said. 'I'm so very, very sorry.'

A smile crossed the woman's lips. 'It seems your grand plan has had little effect. The Necrocites will fulfil their purpose. Goodbye, Doctor.'


	6. Chapter 6

**Doctor Who**

**~ The Necrocite Plan ~**

**by Ghost Scribe**

**~ Chapter Six ~**

**A Strange Reunion**

The atmosphere in the room changed. A hum of raw energy filled the space, and a faint breeze began to tug at Donna's long, auburn hair. And then she heard the sound. It was the most welcome sound she had ever heard: an oscillating grinding of ancient machinery. The source of these effects soon became apparent as an object began to materialise, becoming more solid with each passing second until it landed with a heavy thump.

'It's the Tardis!' Donna cried. Oh, I bloody love you.'

But the Doctor held his hand up, an action that could silence even her. Sometimes.

The door to the Tardis slowly opened and Donna could see a figure silhouetted against the bright and impossibly large background. The magic blue box looked a strange enough sight when inside, but from the outside looking in it could twist the strongest mind into knots.

She could not make out the figure's features, but it was tall, slim and male. Not too unlike the Doctor himself, she thought. But it was not the Doctor. This was someone new.

'Who's he?' she asked, straining her eyes to make the man out.

'Never mind,' the Doctor replied, somewhat dismissively, and realising this turned to look at her. 'It's okay. Someone I used to know. But stay here; I'm not really supposed to do this.'

He walked slowly toward the Tardis, and the mysterious figure moved, striding purposefully with a slightly awkward swagger toward him. As he emerged into the light, Donna got a better look at him. He was dressed all in black, a leather jacket swaying as he walked. His face looked severe, brow furrowed into what appeared to be a permanent scowl, nose hooked like a hawk but with slightly comedic ears. She wasn't sure that she liked him.

'Do you mind?' the figure said irritably as the two men met. 'I was in the middle of dancing.'

'Ah. Dancing. Yeah. Dancing with a Tula warship exploding outside? Dancing with Rose.'

'Where is Rose,' the stranger asked, looking around, his eyes like fire as he scanned his surroundings.

'She's safe, and that's all you need to know. What I can tell you is there's more to this situation than a crashed ambulance and some wayward Tula nanogenes. Humans are being transformed into Necrocites, and the Trinity of Tula are planning to extend it to the entire planet. Not just the dead. Everyone.'

The newcomer simply nodded, lost in thought, and wondered why this Time Lord (and she was sure he must be a Time Lord) had a Lancashire accent.

'So what do you need me for?' the stranger asked. 'I don't have to tell you how dangerous this is, do I? Mixing timelines? Simply being in the same place at the same time-'

'It was unavoidable.' the Doctor interrupted. 'And since you were in the neighbourhood anyway, the damage had already been done. Now, I need you to perform a transversion, and the only way to do that is from the ship's central core. My Tardis ran away and hid when she realised where she'd brought us.'

The two men stood staring at one another for long moments, appraising each other. Donna wondered if they were communicating telepathically, and in a way they were. They were the same person, separated by a few years and a lifetime. She was beginning to understand what she was witnessing: These weren't two Time Lords. These men were two sides of the same coin – two versions of the same man. The Tardis had realised this the moment they had arrived. If there were two Doctors in this place, then there would be two Tardises. She would never fathom how it all worked – she was only human, after all – but all that conflicting temporal energy concentrated in one place could never be a good thing.

'I suppose I'd better get going,' the new Doctor said. 'You know I have a million questions I want to ask?'

'And you know I can't answer them.'

The two men exchanged ironic smiles, before the mysterious man in black turned and stalked back toward the Tardis.

'Just one more thing,' Donna's Doctor shouted after him.

'What?'

He hesitated for an instant, searching for the right way to phrase it.

'Just keep an eye out for two words.'

'What two words?'

He hesitated again as he considered whether to tell his past self or not. 'I can't tell you. Just two words; that's all I can say. Good luck.'

'And you,' the new Doctor said, fumbling in his pocket for the Tardis key.

The impossible man opened the door to the impossible ship. Donna heard her Doctor draw in a breath sharply as the door opened. There was someone else in there. She only caught a glimpse, but that was enough. It was a woman. A woman with golden hair.

And then the door was closed.

A few seconds later came the familiar thump as the Tardis began its departure, and with that churning, whining drone it disappeared, leaving the air to swirl as it filled the suddenly empty space.

The Doctor turned to look at her, and she was sure there was a tear in his eye, despite the smile that he'd fixed onto his face.

'So what happens next?' Donna asked, her eyes flicking from the Doctor to the horde of Necrocites advancing on them.

'Now they tear us to shreds,' he said, that maniacal grin flashing across his face once more as he blinked the tear away.

The Doctor and Donna stood back to back as the circle of Necrocites closed in on them.


	7. Chapter 7

**Doctor Who**

**~ The Necrocite Plan ~**

**by Ghost Scribe**

**~ Chapter Seven ~**

**The Event Horizon**

There was a clatter of gunfire from just outside the room, and an instant later half a dozen Necrocites fell to the ground, their bullet-ridden bodies twitching in spasm. The other thirty Necrocites stopped, looking dumbly at their fallen comrades.

'Kill the Doctor and his companion,' the Tula shouted, a note of panic sounding in her voice for the first time. 'Kill them now.' She knew she was now vulnerable. She was as susceptible to simple projectile weapons as the humans and Necrocites, and teleported away from the danger before one of those bullets penetrated her naked, unprotected flesh.

There were three more shots, and another three figures dropped to the floor. A small group of soldiers broke through and entered the centre of the circle, their rifles pointing outward. They were so young, Donna thought as her eyes darted from one to another. Each was attired in period British infantry uniforms. Five of them carried rifles. The other – the only officer among them, she presumed – carried a revolver. She recognised it. She had seen an identical weapon before. That gun belonged to her own grandfather, and she wondered for a moment where he might be at this moment. For all she knew, he could be one of these brave young soldiers.

'Would you be the Doctor?' the officer asked.

'Yep, that's me,' the Doctor replied. 'I think this is what's known as the nick of time.'

'Apparently so. I have orders directly from the Prime Minister to offer any and all assistance necessary.'

'Ah, good old Winnie. I knew he wouldn't let me down. I need you to... What's your name?'

'Corporal Lethbridge-Stewart, Sir. And would this be Miss Pond?'

'Pond? No. But I'm sure she'll be along sooner or later. No, this is... Lethbridge-Stewart? No! No-no-no!' The Doctor stared at the young man's face intently, looking like a child who'd just met Santa Claus. 'That's brilliant.'

'Do I know you, Sir?' the young officer asked, an edge of impatience to his voice.

'Yes. No. Well, sort of. Not yet, but you will. Long story. All a big wibbly-wobbly timey-wimey thing. Ever thought of growing a moustache, Corporal? I think it'd suit you.'

'I hardly think that is relevant to our current situation, Doctor. Can you apprise me of what it is my men and I are supposed to be doing?'

'Yes! Sorry, getting a bit carried away there. Corporal, your men need to drive the Necrocites – the zombie humans – into the ship. All of them. Once they're securely inside I can handle things.'

'The ship?'

'The big spaceship thing. The thing we're in at the moment?'

The young officer momentarily lost some of his composure as he realised that this was not in fact a building, but a vessel.

The Doctor continued after giving the soldier a moment to assimilate this. 'And Corporal: no guns. Don't shoot any more of them if it can possibly be avoided.'

'But Doctor-'

'No guns. The more of these who get shot, the harder it will be to save them.'

The corporal stared at him for long moments, and the Doctor stared back, his piercing gaze unwavering. In that instant, something passed between them. Maybe it was respect, or perhaps understanding; there was no way to tell. But suddenly the two men understood one another.

'Very well, Doctor,' he said, holstering his gun and gesturing to his soldiers to lower their weapons. 'We'll try.'

'Thank you. And Corporal?'

'Yes Doctor?' he asked as he kicked away a Necrocite's knees and disabled him with a chop to the back of the head.

'Keep this up and you'll make brigadier one day.'

More soldiers entered the room, and the young corporal began barking out orders. He was a natural.

'Come on, Donna,' the Doctor said as the troops started to take control of the situation. 'You and I need to go for a little walk.

'Where are we going?'

'We need to get back to the bridge.'

'How far's that?'

'About half a mile, straight up,' he grinned.

'Oh, wizard!'

-0-

'But where're you going?' Rose asked, tugging at the hem of her union flag t-shirt.

'I told you,' the Doctor replied, 'I've just got an errand to run.'

'Is it dangerous?'

'I'll be reprogramming the central computer in orbit around a black hole inside a giant Tula battleship, surrounded by zombies. No gas masks this time. What could be safer than that?' He looked up from the Tardis controls and grinned mischievously.

'Can I come?' she asked, relishing the opportunity to share yet another amazing experience with this extraordinary man.

'As if I could stop you.'

'What about me?' asked the nauseatingly handsome man in the RAF uniform.

'Not you. I don't trust you enough yet, Captain. Black holes are way beyond volcanoes.'

Captain Jack Harkness shrugged ruefully, but accepted the statement without argument. He knew that he would have to do a lot more to win the Doctor over.

The Tardis landed with its customary thump, all three occupants lurching and almost - but not quite - losing their footing. The Doctor made a quick check of the external conditions. Atmosphere was good and radiation levels were bearable, but it would be best if Rose weren't exposed to it for too long.

The two of them emerged onto a circular platform toward the rear of the warship. Any normal human would have gasped in awe at the sight that met them, but not Rose. She just gazed at it excitedly, flashing that child-like smile at him and biting her bottom lip.

On one side was the cavernous belly of the ship, filled with thousands upon thousands of cryogenic chambers. But within the confines of the circular platform was the power source for this giant spacecraft: a mass of swirling plasma revolving around a tiny point of utter, infinite blackness. The artificially created singularity was tiny compared to most naturally occurring black holes, but could still power the ship for a billion years.

'That's amazing,' Rose said, staring into the eye of the gravitational storm that raged just fifty yards from them.

'That's nothing compared to the untempered schism on Gallifrey. That's a hole in the fabric of reality where you could gaze into the time vortex.' He smiled ruefully at the memory. 'A black hole is a window into the dark. The time vortex is a window into the entire history of the universe... Anyway, no time to stand around gassing! Let's get this computer reprogrammed and get out of here before the Tardis decides to do a runner.'


	8. Chapter 8

**Doctor Who**

**~ The Necrocite Plan ~**

**by Ghost Scribe**

**~ Chapter Eight ~**

**The Gravity Well**

'I ... bloody ... hate ... you!' Donna shouted breathlessly. 'I should've stayed at home.'

They had climbed staircase after staircase, ladder after ladder as they ascended through the starship.

'Haven't the Tula heard of lifts?'

'They have personal teleports,' he said, barely sounding out of breath.

'I was happy in Chiswick.'

Finally, they emerged onto the uppermost deck of the ship, the Doctor annoyingly sprightly considering they had just climbed half a mile. Donna could barely stand, her thighs feeling like they were on fire and she fell, gasping against the bulkhead.

'Never ... again... Next time ... leave me there and I'll ... take my chances.'

A couple of minutes later she had recovered enough not to want to kill the Doctor, merely maim him.

'Ah, here we are,' the Doctor said as they reached a sealed door. 'The bridge. You ready for this?' he asked Donna.

'I suppose so. What're you going to do when we get in there?'

'Give them one last chance.'

He pointed his sonic screwdriver at the door and activated it. Nothing happened. He tried again. Still nothing.

'Oh,' he sighed, scratching the back of his head. 'It's deadlock sealed. That'll make it a bit more tricky.'

'Or,' Donna said, 'you could just try pushing this button here.' The door slid aside and they were both instantly bathed in a warm, golden glow from within the chamber.

The Doctor looked at her for a second with confused wonder before his face dissolved into a broad grin. 'You're just brilliant, you are.'

They stepped through the doorway and onto the bridge. It was much as the Doctor remembered it, although at each corner of the room there was now a doorway, which had either been cloaked during his previous visit, or, more likely, the living metal had created them since.

'Oh here they are,' Donna said. 'It's Banana-flamin'-rama.'

The Trinity of Tula stood against each wall of the control room, looking magnificent and terrible as they glowed with incandescent fire. The Doctor sauntered into the centre of the room, hands in pockets.

'It's over, sisters. Time to give it up,' he said, a note of command in his voice. 'This ship is full of human soldiers, and your Necrocites are being rounded up as we speak.'

'You are correct, Doctor. It is over,' the central sister of the trinity said. 'We have failed in our quest.'

'Then release the Necrocites and leave this planet in peace.'

'We have failed, Doctor,' said another, 'and now we all shall die. Thanks to you.'

'What do you mean? You don't have to die.'

'We shall never be accepted back into the sisterhood of Tula.'

The Doctor suddenly looked uneasy. 'What are you doing?'

'This planet will be crushed, lost for all eternity. And you shall die with us, Doctor. You and all your human friends.'

He ran over to the nearest console and slipped on his thick-rimmed reading glasses as he scanned the screens. All read normal, glowing a soft amber. Except one: the monitor that displayed the black hole converter status. It glowed with an ominous shade of mauve - the colour recognised throughout the galaxy as the colour for danger. Everywhere except Earth, of course.

'You're disabling the antimatter containment field,' he said with disbelief. You're opening up that black hole to swallow the entire planet!'

'Correct.'

For a few moments he looked around the room helplessly, at the Trinity of Tula and at Donna. She stared back at him, her eyes wide with alarm. He knew that her fear was not for herself, but for her world, and for her family. Somewhere out there, her young grandfather was fighting for his country, unaware that he was about to die in a destructive maelstrom that Hitler could only dream of.

'I lost Gallifrey,' the Doctor said at last. I'm not losing the Earth as well. He aimed his screwdriver at the centre of the room, and the metallic floor began to bubble and boil. Shapes emerged in the liquid metal cauldron, amorphous and undefined to begin with, until it began to solidify into a recognisable shape: a chair. It was elegant in design - sweeping in organic curves, perfectly moulded to accommodate one humanoid form.

'Donna,' the Doctor shouted, 'I need you to sit in that chair.'

'What for?'

'You've got to fly this ship out of here.'

'What? Me? I can't fly this. I failed my driving test four times!'

'Not now! I need you to do this.' He dashed over and took her hands in his. 'There, I'm giving you a genetic transfer. The ship will think you're one of the trinity and will respond to you. Okay, you're one breast and one eye short and a lot hairier but it'll be enough.'

'But...'

'I'll prime the ship, but you've got to fly it. As soon as you sit in that chair, it will respond to your commands.'

'What'll you be doing?'

'I've got to try and stabilise that force field around the black hole. But if I don't succeed, we need to put as much distance between us and the Earth as possible.'

He turned and dashed back to the console, slamming the palm of his hand down on the communication panel.

'Attention all humans on board the Tula warship: evacuate immediately. This ship is leaving. Doctor: do it now!' He turned and spoke to the Trinity of Tula: 'I'm sorry. You left me no choice.'

-o-

Almost a mile away, another Doctor stood poised at a similar console, silhouetted against the churning, swirling backdrop of the singularity. If the force field failed now, he and Rose would have the honour of being the first to be gripped by the gravity well and sucked, screaming, into the black hole.

'Who's that?' Rose asked as the voice echoed around the vast chamber. 'I recognise him. I think. Can't think where from, though.'

'Doesn't matter,' the Doctor replied, his forehead shining with sweat. He slowly touched a finger to the screen, which lit up in a vivid shade of mauve. He touched it again. 'It's done. There's nothing more we can do. Now, run!'

The Doctor and Rose raced back to the Tardis. A moment later the magic blue box faded into nothingness.


	9. Chapter 9

**Doctor Who**

**~ The Necrocite Plan ~**

**by Ghost Scribe**

**~ Chapter Nine ~**

**Phased Reality**

'Doctor,' Donna shouted. 'In case you haven't noticed, there's about five hundred feet of rock above us. How are we-'

'I'm working on it,' he snapped as his fingers danced over the console.

Three screams instantly distracted them, and they turned just in time to see the three sisters of the Trinity of Tula drop to the ground.

'What happened to them?' Donna asked, looking with horror at the three inert forms, collapsed and unmoving on the floor.

'They're dead. I reversed the Necrocite control system. The Necrocites are once again what they started out as: dead. The transfer of thousands of consciousnesses into the trinity was too much for their brains to handle.'

His chin wobbled for a moment as he thought about what he had done. Even though he had no choice, and that the fate of an entire planet was at stake, killing was never an easy thing for him. He concentrated on the console, putting thoughts of the three women to one side. At least for the time being.

'There!' he shouted.

The control room and everything in it seemed to shimmer for an instant, as if it almost - but not quite - blinked out of existence.

'The ship's gone into phase.'

'Hang on, there must be a dictionary of space gibberish around here somewhere...'

'It means the ship can pass through solid rock. I haven't got time to engage the cloak. Hopefully not too many people will see it. But that black hole is still going to be released if I can't stop it.' He returned his attention to the control panel, slowly beginning the process of reversing the deactivation command. 'Now, Donna. Take us out of here.'

'How though? I don't know-'

'Just think it. Imagine the ship rising slowly from the cavern, and it'll happen. Slow and steady, Donna.'

He continued to tap feverishly at the console, breaking down firewalls, reprogramming subroutines.

Donna took a deep breath, and tried to visualise the ship rising. Nothing happened. 'It's not working!' she shouted. 'I can't do it!'

He rushed over to her, leaping over one of the dead Tula and crouching beside her, resting a comforting hand on her shoulder. 'You can do it, Donna,' he whispered. 'I know you can.' He paused, wasting valuable seconds but knew he had no choice. 'I believe in you. Just relax, and imagine us slowly beginning to move upward. That's it. Nice and slow.'

Donna took a long, deep breath and tried to put all other thoughts out of her mind. She felt something strange, like some force entering her body. But it didn't feel like it was controlling her. She instinctively knew she could expel it with just a thought. She visualised the great ship, its vast, dead cargo, the black hole deep within its hull. And she imagined it rising, just a little. Just an inch at a time. And then she seemed to feel the sensation of movement.

'That's it,' the Doctor said, and somehow she could hear the grin on his face. 'Up we go, nice and-'

The ship suddenly shot up through the ground and into the air, sending the Doctor flying across the room.

'Blimey, you've picked that up quick!' He scrambled back over to the console and carried on working. 'Keep going, Donna. I'm not sure I can do this in time!' he bellowed over his shoulder. 'Get us as far away from the Earth as you can.'

The Tula warship blasted free from the atmosphere, past the orbit of the Moon, beyond Mars, Jupiter and Saturn, the black hole converter circumventing the physical laws of space-time as the ship left the solar system behind.

'How long have we got do you reckon?' she shouted, seeing a trinary system fly past impossibly quickly.

'Half a minute? Thirty seconds? Something like that,' he yelled back. 'Make that twenty.'

Mauve screen after mauve screen appeared, each one a more garish shade. 'Ten seconds. Five.'

He grimaced, as another appeared. And then another. 'Two... One and a bit...'

The screen turned amber.

'YES!' he shouted, slamming his palm down onto the panel. 'HA!'

The Doctor collapsed onto the console, exhausted and relieved as each screen in the room returned to a pleasant shade of amber as the force field was stabilised. Donna brought the ship slowly to a standstill and slid out of the chair to crawl over to him on all fours. They hugged, both relishing each other's touch - a reminder of life and how close they had come to losing theirs.

'Doctor? I've no idea where we are or how we get back.'

'Don't worry,' he said, extricating himself from her embrace and staggering to his feet. 'I'll get us back. But first of all we need to get all those Necrocites into their hibernation chambers.

By the time they returned to Earth orbit, every one of the Necrocites had had its physical wounds repaired by nanogenes. They were still quite dead, but their bodies would be preserved for generations to come.

'But what's the point?' Donna asked. 'If they're already dead, why bother to repair their bodies and keep them in these chambers?'

The Doctor wrapped an arm around her shoulders and pointed out of the observation window. 'You see that little smudge of light out there?'

She followed his finger and could just make out a tiny blur. 'I think so.'

'That's the Large Megellanic Cloud; a satellite galaxy orbiting the Milky Way. In around two hundred and fifty million years, a race will emerge from there called the Secrephon. And they will become the finest re-animators in the history of the universe.'

'You mean... All these people will be brought back to life? After so long?'

'Yep, if the ship makes it. But with a fully functioning black hole converter to power it there's no reason why it wouldn't. They can begin a whole new life in a different galaxy.'

'You are bloody brilliant!' Donna cried, and hugged him until he thought he might have to regenerate.

Once the ship was safely under way, travelling at a sedate three-quarters of light speed toward its final destination a hundred and sixty-three light years away, they teleported back to Earth - to the platform on York Road underground station.

The Tardis was no longer an empty blue box. She had happily returned once the previous Doctor and previous Tardis had left.

'Right,' the Doctor said once they were safely inside, tossing his coat onto the handrail, 'shall we head over to face this dragon, or do want to try something a little more exciting?'

Donna was exhausted, and was in no mood to face her mother. 'I'm too tired. She can wait.' She looked at her watch. 'I must be getting old. It's only midnight.'

'Excellent idea!' the Doctor said, tapping the space-time coordinates into the vortex manipulator. 'A planet made of diamonds with radiation that would fry you in seconds; what could be more relaxing than that? Let's go to Midnight.'

The End.

* Having just watched the pilot episode of Torchwood, it's stated that Captain Jack Harkness disappeared from British records on 21st January 1941. This is several months before he appears in this story, however since the London Blitz did not start until the Spring of this year it seems this cannot be correct. Therefore, I'll keep the date as 9th May 1941 and let time sort itself out!


End file.
